


Better than Words

by Romancemesomeziam



Series: Parent Ziam [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Kid Fic, M/M, domestic ziam, ziam as parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:50:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romancemesomeziam/pseuds/Romancemesomeziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Liam wake up with their little boy and enjoy their time off as a family.</p><p>or</p><p>Zayn and Liam being parents, but finding time to be lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Words

It was one of those mornings, when waking up was easy, the sun shining in through the sheer curtains, warming the room up to a comfortable temperature, licking at his skin. Zayn shivered with pleasure as he groaned into his pillow, clutching it to his chest as he rolled over slightly, his body instantly turning towards the small giggles coming from right next to him.

He usually hated mornings, despised them really because if there`s something Zayn was good at, it was sleeping. He was known for it after all, famously dozing off everywhere and anywhere as long as it smelled lightly of home, as long as it smelled slightly of his husband.

He remembered times on the tour bus when he was woken up to sing his tracks for the next album, his voice raspy and laced with sleep. He hated every minute of it, not because he didn`t enjoy singing but rather because he found comfort in his sleep, dreamed of normality, but mostly dreamed of Liam.

Long before they had stopped ignoring their feelings for one another, coming back from midnight recording session was Zayn`s worse nightmare. It meant having to pass next to Liam’s bunk every time, seeing the boy’s innocent face etched with sleep as he smiled at Zayn, always asking how things had been. And Zayn would always do the same thing, nod a non-committed _it was fine,_ before slipping into the opposite bunk, even if his body craved to do different.

For over two years, Zayn had desperately tried to hide it, hide the fact that he wanted nothing more than to slide into Liam`s bunk after those late night recording session and plaster his body to the other boy`s. He wanted to mold himself to Liam, to lay his head on his chest and sigh with exhaustion, whispering questions to improve his singing techniques.

Yet those days were long passed, and it explained why waking up was now one of Zayn’s favorite things, because it meant coming face to face with his two favorite boys.

Groaning again, Zayn stretched out his arms, yawning for no real reason as he opened his eyes, slightly blinded by the morning sun.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” murmured Liam close to his ear, another small giggle resonating through the air as Liam leaned in to kiss him.

“Good morning baba,” came another little voice, a head squeezing its way in-between him and Liam, to settle on his chest.

Zayn’s lips spread into a wide smile, his heart suddenly aching at how beautiful the picture before him was. He could see himself in the boy's wide brown eyes, but the wild blondish curls were definitely Liam`s, the perfect mixture of both of them, their little miracle. Taylor.

He remembered deciding the boy's name in a haste, a forgotten memory of an interview they had done when they were teenagers, both agreeing that they loved the name Taylor for their first born, long before they were known as ZaynandLiam, long before Taylor was even a possibility.

“Morning, love,” grunted Zayn as he leaned in to kiss Liam’s full lips once more, addicted to the taste mixed with the sting of peppermint toothpaste.

Little hands pulling at his hair ended the kiss a little abruptly as Liam laughed against his lips, brown eyes sparkling with emotion as they both peered down at their son.

“What about me, baba?” asked the little boy, obviously flustered at being left out of the family cuddle.

Smiling, Zayn bent down, pressing a small kiss to the golden crown of the boy’s hair, inhaling the citrus smell of the familiar shampoo that made his heart ache. “Morning my little monkey.”

“I`m not just any monkey,” mused the little boy, crawling over Zayn`s bare chest to lay his head down on his heavily tattooed arm, tiny fingers tracing the design there. “I`m a space monkey.”

“That you are” Liam said, fondness so apparent in his voice as he pulled off his snapback, long and thick fingers combing through his hair before pulling the cap back on, hand settling on Taylor's back.

Captured by the sight, Zayn could feel his gut tightening, remembering the feeling of those same fingers ghosting across his back, opening him slowly before thunder had shook the house, a loud piercing wail echoing through the hallway in result, putting an end to their romance. Yet neither Zayn nor Liam could find it in themselves to be angry as they had settled their little boy between them, tears staining his puffy cheeks as he had curled into Liam`s side, fingers clutching at Zayn`s hand.

Taylor had fallen asleep almost instantly, the reassurance of both his parents enough to ease his mind into lala land. Zayn had followed quickly, exhausted from a long day of song writing, the production of Liam's next record a growing pressure.

And so the sweet morning was even more welcomed as they bathed in each other presence, a jumble of limps with no definite destination.

“What were you watching?” asked Zayn as he noticed the IPad in Liam`s lap, desperately trying not to think how his husband was commando under the nylon shorts, pulling them on in a haste last night before reaching their son`s trembling form.

Shrugging, Liam grinned at him, eyes laughing with unspoken words as he thumbed the device open, playing an old video of them in Vegas.

A stab of lust coursed through Zayn`s body as he remembered in detail that exact concert, images of Liam pushing him roughly into the dress room after, tearing at his clothes flashing through his mind.

Ignoring the pressure of Liam`s warm hand on his neck, Zayn shuffled the small boy on his chest closer to his heart, nuzzling his nose in the soft curls that he loved shamelessly.

“Did you watch anything new?” he asked, knowing his son’s preference for  _Kiss You_  &  _Moments_.

The little boy’s eyes lit up instantly, tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration as he scrambled off Zayn, tiny feet making their way across into Liam`s lap. And the boy climbed his father like a tree until he could reach the snap back, pulling it of Liam`s head before sliding down Liam`s body. He sat with his small back leaning on Liam’s arm and chest, facing Zayn as he pushed the snapback over his curls, the blond hair spilling out from the edges. Even with the impressive amount of hair he had, the cap was still huge on him, floating a top his head, but Taylor simply smiled, looking up at Zayn from under it.

“I learned something, baba,” said the boy, eyes wide with excitement as he tapped Liam’s hand for help.

Liam smirked in Zayn’s direction, obviously amused with what was about to happened as he arranged their son’s little fingers as he wanted them.

Taylor then turned towards Zayn, closing one of his eye and putting his hand up, a fumbled westcoast symbol before him as he rasped out a high pitched “I’m a Bradford bad boy”.

Liam burst out laughing immediately, as their little boy smiled up at Zayn, so proud with his accomplishment and Zayn groaned, hiding his face into Liam’s neck.

“How dare you?” he whispered, feeling his cheeks red-hot from embarrassment as he plucked the snapback off his son’s head, threading his fingers in his hair. But Liam simply laughed, holding Zayn in place as he kissed his jaw.

"You're not from Bradford little monkey," teased Zayn, tickling the boy's tummy, who giggled helplessly as he kicked his feet, crawling towards Liam, seeking protection, yet laughing widely.

"Maybe I should show him the red file on your laptop," threatened Zayn, with no malice whatsoever as he watched Taylor peek his head out from behind Liam's shoulder, a shy smile filling his face.

Liam's eyebrows furrowed, knowing exactly which file Zayn was talking about. It was a montage that Louis had so _kindly_ made of Liam falling on stage during their numerous tours, finding it hilarious to remind Liam just how clumsy he was.

"How about breakfast?" Liam asked, obviously trying to change the subject, picking up Taylor from behind him and zooming him through the air.

"Pancake day," smiled Zayn, rolling his shoulders one last time, stretching his muscles before getting out of bed. He went directly for the kitchen, knowing by the little thumping behind him that his son was following suit quickly.

Pancake day was Taylor's favorite, mostly because the boy found pleasure in inventing new toppings every Saturday morning, ranging from _kiwi & honey_ to _Nutella and Oreos_. Liam was a terrible influence really, encouraging the boy in his concoction, but Zayn couldn't find it in himself to scold them, simply too enthralled by the way his husband looked wrapped around their son, eyes bright and laughter easy.

When Zayn reached the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator, pulling out some eggs and milk. As he deposited them on the marble counter, Taylor came climbing at the edge of a chair, crawling onto that counter no matter how many times Liam had told him not to do that.

The little boy had earned his name well after all, preferring to climb anything and everything rather than be helped up. He was a little adventurer, terribly smart and clever, always out for a laugh. He spent way too much time with his uncle Louis, pulling pranks on everyone and getting away with it because he had perfected the same puppy dog look Liam had.

Now here he was, crawling on the counter to get his bright red whisk that Harry had gotten him last Christmas before settling next to the big bowl Liam had just placed near him.

"How gangsta is your mom?," Liam said as he pulled out the pre-made jars of pancake mix Trisha had given them at their last visit, wanting to fill their homes with familiar, comforting smells.

Truth was, Zayn missed his mom's cooking, even if he was now married, with a kid of his own, and his mom knew him all too well. London always seemed so very far away from his home town, and having little attentions like this from his mother always managed to make his smile.

"What's gansa, papa?" asked Taylor, lips pouting as he did every time he didn't understand a word, refusing to let any conversation go on until he knew the meaning of things.

Chuckling Zayn stepped towards his little man, emptying the pancake mixture in the bowl as he watched Liam careful chew at his lip trying to find an answer that was suitable for their son.

"Gangsta means...it means awesome," Liam tried, coming to stand behind Zayn, warm hands skimming the edge of Zayn's shorts, making him push back lightly, all while he watched Taylor. He had become a master of disguising his arousal when the little boy was around, still finding ways to tease his husband but always paying attention to Taylor.

The little boy, seemed to  try the word on his tongue, tapping the whisk in his pudgy hand. "I'm gangsta!" he exclaimed, all of a sudden sending four flying through the air.

 Liam squeaked helplessly, shaking his head in Taylor's direction as he dug his fingers into Zayn's hips, almost as if asking to be rescued.

Zayn tsked at Liam lightly, amusement playing on his lips at he cracked the eggs into the bowl, adding some milk and then motioning to Taylor to start whisking, their son already a pro in the kitchen.

"Gangsta is an adult word, monkey," Zayn explained, rubbing at the boy's back as one little hand gripped the bowl, the other trying furiously to mix the thick batter. "Like all those words Uncle Niall says that baba doesn't want you to say."

Frowning, Taylor stopped stirring, looking up at both Liam and Zayn.

"Like crazy mofos?" questioned the boy innocently.

Sighing Liam nodded but Zayn couldn't contain his laughter, turning into his husband's shoulder, smirking into the warm skin that smelled of sweat and home.

"He gets that from you," Zayn teased, fingers trailing over Liam's back as he leaned into those strong arms he so deeply depended upon, looking back at their little rascal who was back at the task, whisking the batter until his arm would go limp.

Zayn felt Liam's laughter through the resonation of his chest, the movement sending shivers down his spin. There were soft kisses pressed to the top of his head as Liam's hand brought them closer together, their bodies molding around one another.

These little moments were why Zayn loved his family, because everything they did together, be it as simple as making pancakes was the highlight of his day, bringing more happiness in his life than anything else ever could.

"You almost done whisking little man?" asked Liam, unwinding himself from around Zayn who instantly felt colder, but recovered quickly, setting the table while Liam helped Taylor scoop the batter into the pan, making Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, as always.

Once they had all been served, they settled at the small round table in the kitchen which was littered with various different toppings for their breakfast, fruit, jams, cookies, anything their little boy could ever imagine. And Zayn knew it wasn't rational, that no kid should freely decide to eat Nutella and Oreo pancakes after all, but this was their Saturday morning tradition and really, one meal would certainly not kill anyone.

"What's on the menu today?" inquired Zayn as he watched Taylor's hands brush against a few bottles before stopping on the strawberry jam, spooning out a handful before going back to his search.

But no answer came, the little boy deeply concentrated as he scanned the table. Zayn could see Liam on the other side, his pancakes already buttered with strawberry jam as well, always copying Taylor and encouraging him in his debauchery. It was another one of those little things that Zayn simply loved about his husband. Liam would do simply anything to make Taylor happy, including weird mixes on his pancakes and eating Doritos with chocolate milk. He would dress in the same clothes as Taylor, matching outfits that often were his stylists worst nightmare, but Liam never even cared, always doing whatever would make their baby boy happy.

It was in moments like these, where Liam now copied Taylor by adding marshmallows to his pancakes that Zayn fell in love all over again with him. Because at the end of the day, he knew that whatever happened to him, his little miracle would always be safe, he'd be the most loved and cared for child in the world and that was all Zayn needed to breathe a little easier every day he wasn't around Taylor.

As they ate, Zayn with his plain maple syrup pancakes, and his two favorite boys with their strawberry and marshmallow mountain, Taylor chatted along, tapping beats on the table with his fork. Music was in his blood, already a little genius with Liam's piano, but lately he had found a new interest to build up a storm with.

"Papa!" the little boy exclaimed when he had finished munching on the last of his marshmallows, mouth stained pink and sticky as he licked at his lips. "Can you do the box beating thing again?"

Choking on his coffee, Liam spurted, smiling like an idiot. "Its beatboxing, Tay".

Again the boy's eyebrows furrowed, the facial expression he kept making looking more and more like a younger Liam, even if his eyes and darker features were those of Zayn.

"Beatboxing," Taylor repeated, looking for Liam's approval who nodded, standing to pick up the little boy in his arm as he started out his beat box.

And all Zayn could hear as he cleaned the kitchen was the resonating sound of Liam's familiar beatbox, and Taylor's burst of laughter as he tried to copy his papa, making small noises that sounded ridiculous but that Liam encouraged. Always encouraged.

Getting lost in the household chores, paying the bills that were near overdue, picking up toys that were scattered around the house, Zayn didn't see the time pass until a strong hand ran down his back, gripping at his hip to turn him around.

He found himself enveloped in Liam's embrace, his nose pressed to the bigger man's chest, the smell of his husband attacking his every sense, leaving him breathless.

"Where's Tay?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the way Liam's body was pressed against his own, theirs hips rocking together automatically.

Liam moaned into his ear, pushing Zayn until his knees touched the back of the couch, and he found himself trapped. "Napping, exhausted from beat boxing and strumming his little guitar. He's ace at it, a fucking genius our son is."

All Zayn could do was groan in agreement, the pressure of Liam's leg in between his own too delicious for his brain to come up with words. After last night's occurrence, their orgasm forgotten in the fearful tears of their son, Zayn had to admit he was desperate to get off, Liam's every touch burning his skin.

"We don't have much time," he muttered as he pulled at Liam's shirt, fingers digging in the other man's back, no doubt leaving marks behind.

"Plenty of time," whispered Liam as he traced his finger along Zayn's tattoos, lingering on the lips upon his chest before kissing his way down Zayn's body, kneeling before him.

"Its incredible how fast you lost all that baby weight," teased Liam, nipping at Zayn's hips as he pulled down his shorts, grabbing his hand to help him step out of them.

And Zayn wanted to scold him, to tell him how stupid that joke was, even more considering how old Taylor  was, but that warm mouth that closed around his dick interrupted his train of thought, leaving Zayn gasping, hands threading through Liam's hair as an anchor.

"Fuck babe," Zayn moaned, hips sputtering forward on their own account as he felt wet fingers pushing at his hole, demanding permission. He knew they needed to be quick, knew Taylor's naps barely last half an hour if they were lucky, but Zayn didn't even know where Liam had manage to find lube as they had decided to no longer hide some around the house. Having to explain to their son what the little bottle was, was indeed not an experience Zayn wanted to repeat.

Shutting down his mind, Zayn leaned back into the couch, settling on the edge to spread his legs wider, enough to accommodate Liam's wide shoulders.

"You taste better than pancakes," hummed Liam, pulling away to breath once, twice, before pushing himself down again, running his tongue along the underside of Zayn's dick.

And Zayn wondered how it was possible that every time felt like a first. Wondered how every touch of Liam's fingers still had him melting, his insides twisting even after years together. "Its like magic," Liam had once admitted to him in between labored breaths, and blinding vision. There was no other explanation really, when he was with Liam, his body simply purred, echoing their love.

"Please," begged Zayn as he felt a third, maybe a fourth finger opening him. He was grinding down shamelessly, riding Liam's fingers as he moaned louder than anticipated. A hand quickly came to cover his mouth, before plump lips covered his own, a kiss more desperate than life exchanged between two halves of a heart.

"Don't you want me to fuck you, Zayn," asked Liam, breaking away from the kiss even when Zayn kept chasing his lips for more, whining as Liam's fingers hit him just right. Opening his eyes, Zayn could see how Liam's entire demeanor had changed, going from devoted, playful father to sinful predator, pupils dilated and dark as he nipped at Zayn's collarbone.

"Then you're going to have to be quiet babe," moaned Liam.

Zayn nodded furiously, lost in the sensation of his husband's fingers deep inside him, his dick hard and leaking as he leaned forth, biting Liam's shoulder to contain a moan desperate to escape his lips.

"Just fuck me, please,"  sighed Zayn, shaking fingers cupping Liam's face to kiss him. And their mouths said more than their words ever could, desperation and need seeping with every flick of Zayn's tongue, craving, demanding and begging to be used and filled up. To be fucked by Liam until his legs went weak and his mind shut down. He wanted to be bruised and raw, to be emotional and whimpering, but mostly he wanted to feel connected.

For a few seconds Zayn wanted to lose himself in his husband, to forget the world, their responsibility and feel as though nothing mattered but them. Because no matter how much he loved their life, their home and their son, it they ever lost this connection, the exact thing he was seeking, then everything else would crumple in seconds. So Zayn rocked against Liam, forehead to his husband's own as he peered into his eyes, explaining everything wordlessly, and Liam understood. He understood because that was exactly what Liam always did. He was the heart and soul of this family, open arms and golden heart.

Zayn felt Liam's fingers leave him, whining instantly at how empty he felt, but he was soon forced to turn over, clutching at the side of the couch, curving his back to give Liam better access. He probably looked like a right slut, bent over the living room couch, naked and presenting himself to Liam but he didn't care, all he wanted right now was to be touched by his husband, taken, marked, and left hurting.

Liam did just that, settling between his open legs, teasingly running his hard cock into Zayn's ass, with no intention of actually pushing in and Zayn groaned in frustration, reaching around to stroke Liam once, encouraging him. Liam swatted at his hand, blanketing Zayn's back with his body as he started to push in, whispering filthy things in Zayn's ear.

Trembling, the dirty promises fogging his mind, Zayn gripped at the couch, pushing back to meet Liam who started thrusting slowly, building a rhythm Zayn was countering.

"Need more," he moaned shamelessly, feeling Liam's hand digging in his hip as the other traveled up his spin, wrapping around his throat and pulling his head back.

"Always so desperate," Liam taunted, biting at the thick column of Zayn's neck, the brand already darkening. It would be a bitch to explain, most certain to Taylor but Zayn was too far gone to care at the moment, rocking his hips back as the hand on his throat tightened, making his vision swim between reality and supernova.

"Always for you."

The words seem to break whatever control Liam had, his hips snapping forward almost dangerously, causing Zayn to scream a little too loud, biting at his lip instantly in regret. There was a smack against his left ass cheek, a punishment no doubt, followed by Liam's body immobilizing his own, listening for any signs of a little boy being awakened.

But when the house remained silent, nothing but their labored breaths filling the air, Liam started thrusting again, this time his rhythm unforgiving, as his fingers slipped into Zayn's mouth, keeping him quiet.

Within minutes, Zayn was skimming the line of orgasm, his dick painful hard as it kept brushing against the leather of the couch, and Liam simply kept going, touching him all over, his body buzzing from the sheer overload. It was like being enveloped in everything Liam, his body so strong, his smell so powerful, his touch grounding. It was the definition of life in a simple caress, Zayn body in tune to Liam's every demand.

Zayn's orgasm however came unexpected as Liam's thick fingers smoothed along his dick, the man's mouth at Zayn's ear whispering. "I want another son".

Zayn body simply burst into flames, the thought of raising another child with Liam too much too handle, his heart aching as he came wordlessly over the back of the couch, painting the leather and Liam's hand white. Liam followed almost immediately, a few more thrust into Zayn's convulsing body.

Struggling to keep upright, Zayn, leaning into the couch, accepting the strong arms that wrapped around his waist, the pressure of Liam's head against his back comforting as they panted into one another's skin, the admission stinging the air around them.

"Do you really want that?" finally asked Zayn when half his brain was working and he was able to make a coherent sentence again. They had always talked about expanding their family, adding a brother for Taylor to play with but never had Liam spoken the words that he wanted one now, and Zayn simply clung to the idea.

He felt Liam nod against his side before he heard the definite, _more than anything in world,_ that was whispered into his skin, seeping in his every pore.

"Me too," Zayn replied, turning over to cradle Liam's face in his shaking hands, kissing his husband's lips in a kiss that was too sweet for what they had just done, but was perfect really, like everything else between them.

Pressing his forehead to Liam's, Zayn smiled childishly, eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed by just how lucky he was.

"We should shower," acknowledge Liam after a few minutes, always the rational one, thinking ahead to the fact that their baby boy would soon be slipping out of his bed to find them, and seeing his fathers naked, sweaty and covered in come was not in today's plan.

Liam was up before Zayn could even move a muscle, hips swaying as he walked towards the kitchen, coming back with a cloth to whip the couch down before picking Zayn up, eliciting a squeal from the smaller man's lips.

"I can walk," mused Zayn, head lulling on Liam's shoulder because in truth he had no desire to move whatsoever, fully content with being carried to the bathroom.

And Liam only hummed in response, hands strong and firm under Zayn's thighs as they stopped in the doorway to Taylor's room, peaking in to see their little boy curled in his blanket, clutching a buzz light-year doll to his chest.

"So beautiful," whispered Zayn, lips brushing Liam's temple as he wrapped his arms around his husband's neck, sighing happily.

In exchange, Liam smiled, starting his way towards the bathroom once again, kissing Zayn's neck gently.

"Just like his baba," concluded Liam, forcing Zayn to look at him.

"Just like his papa," Zayn countered, kissing his husband one more time before stepping into the shower, putting everything he could into the press of lip that kept going as they washed each other, because Zayn could never explain how lucky he felt, how loved and accepted he felt. He wrote songs on a daily basis, worked with Liam every day, whispered sweet nothings to him and their son and yet, he would never say what he truly meant. In the end, their little family, his life with Liam and their beautiful son was simply better than words.


End file.
